"Hurt, sir?" inquired old Mason, as he took hold of the old horse's bridle and led him back.
"A bit of a cut on the forehead," returned Fortescue, "that is all. Captain O'Rooney pulled his mare round at the wall—little cad!"
"A scoundrel's trick," said the Colonel.
Fortescue goes to weigh in first.
"All right, sir," said the man in charge of the scales.
The Captain now approaches, saddle and saddle-cloths in hand, and seats himself.
"Eleven stone eleven," said he of the scales, looking at them intently. "Three pounds short, Captain."
"What?" yelled out O'Rooney. "Look again, man, look again!"
"Eleven stone eleven," replied the clerk.
"Give me my bridle!" roared the Captain. "What the h—ll is the matter?"